


A King Within Mountain Deep

by issaro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Consort Under the Mountain, Durincest, Fíli and Kíli Responsible Heirs to the Mountain, Good King Thorin, King Under the Mountain, M/M, Sassy Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issaro/pseuds/issaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another time and place, thirteen dwarves and one Hobbit went on a quest to regain a Mountain Kingdom. Although you may feel you know their tragic tale, in this universe our Company triumphed over the combined forces of Mordor and escaped the hand of death. The Kingdom of Erebor was re-born that day under the rule of Thorin II, known as Thorin Oakenshield. Now, decades later, the King, his Heirs, and the Consort Under the Mountain have all settled into their roles. This is a day in the life of the King Under the Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A King Within Mountain Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinisterbug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinisterbug/gifts).



> Have a Happy Hobbit Holiday gift for sinisterbug. I tried to get a little bit of everything you asked for in here and hope it results in some warm fuzzies for you. 
> 
> Beta read by the fabulous headfirstforwaywardhalos. Thank you for volunteering to read through an unknown author's work. I very much appreciated you stepping in to make this better. Any remaining issues are entirely my own.

The sound of the chamber door swinging open and the warm smell of freshly baked bread pulled Thorin from his sleep. He extended his senses blearily to pick up the sounds of dining ware being placed on the table and the fire iron turning over last night’s coals. Allowing himself to sink back down into sleepy half awareness, he slowly stretched his neck and shoulders, pushing into the supple warmth of the bed to continue the stretch down through his back and hips.

With an unhappy grumble, Thorin turned his back to the light and reached out with the arm not currently repositioning his pillow more comfortably beneath his ear. His wandering fingers found flesh and he reeled it in, much to the owner's displeasure. Bilbo kicked him sharply in the shin before squirming back against Thorin to position himself to his satisfaction within the cage of Thorin's body.

“Up.” Thorin rumbled, not bothering to open his own eyes.

“No.” Bilbo's voice was as sleep heavy as Thorin's.

Thorin placed a blind kiss on the nape of Bilbo's neck. With his nose pressed flush against Bilbo's shoulder, all Thorin could smell was sleep warm skin and the deeply pleasing scent of himself intertwined with his Consort. “Breakfast.”

There was silence for a long moment while Bilbo seemed to consider his offer before he sank more firmly back against Thorin. “Later,” he pronounced sleepily. He pulled Thorin's arm more tightly around him and tucked Thorin's hand under his cheek. Half asleep he bestowed a lingering kiss on the inside of Thorin's wrist.

“Now,” Thorin mumbled taking the opportunity to nip at a bit of exposed skin. The action sent a zing of primal satisfaction running along his nerves.

Bilbo shrugged him off with an unhappy negative sound and rolled away to bury himself beneath the bed covers. Thorin let him escape into the furs and instead rolled himself out of bed and onto his feet with a grunt. He shuffled tired feet across the room ignoring the food and going instead for the clothes laid out nearby: a linen undershirt, trousers and fur lined dressing gown. Dressing while still half asleep and already moving for the door (a hard earned skill) Thorin left Bilbo to his sleep.

He gave a sharp tug to the tassel by the door to his receiving rooms as he passed. Hidden high in the vaulted ceiling, several mirrors moved into alignment to filter the weak morning sunlight down into the room. A second tug of the rope would bring the remaining mirrors into alignment, brightening the room more fully but, as it was, the light was enough to chase away any lingering thoughts of his warm bed and sleeping mate. Thorin rubbed a rough hand across his face and gathered his hair with a quick twist and a push over his shoulder; it would suffice for now.

The chamber was blessedly empty but for a carafe and a plate of breads and meats sat at the table. Those, along with the morning broadsheets, clearly showed that the household staff had already been and gone here as well. Thorin sat heavily in his chair and pulled the first paper to him. He began to read as he assembled biscuit sandwiches in a neat row along the edge of the platter.

Several articles were flagged for his attention this morning. There had been an increase in petty crimes along High Street (something Bilbo had reported was under control). The editor was unhappy with the Crown's current position on immigration of clanless dwarves (something Thorin didn't personally care about his opinion on). And one of the reporters was sure that the weaver's guild was colluding with the husbandry guild to increase the cost of wool this season (something Thorin privately suspected as well but had yet to be presented proof of). He folded the sheet back down on itself, set it aside and picked up the next, in addition to another sandwich.

He was just reading about the unfortunate position Lord F-- had found himself in with the hired help (gossip was a surprisingly powerful tool when trying to anticipate which way the Council would vote on one of his measures) when Kili appeared behind the chair to his left.

“Your Majesty.” The tired greeting was almost swallowed up by a mistimed yawn.

Thorin grunted and offered a nod in acknowledgement as he motioned to the seat beside him.

“Sit, Nephew. Eat.”

Kili gave a small smile and sat. It was more of a barely controlled fall but he made it into the seat without toppling over onto the floor. “Thank you.” Another yawn threatened to split his face in two. He, it seemed, was no more ready to be awake at this hour than Thorin.

Thorin could recall clearly his own early mornings when training for his duties as Crown Prince of Erebor. Whether Thorin had had to be up early to sit in meetings like this one with his Father and Grandfather as Kili was now doing with him or had been pulled out of a cold, early morning bedroll to patrol mountain passes as Fili had been doing for the past few weeks, royal duties always seemed to begin early.

Thorin tapped the side of the carafe in encouragement and polished off the last pre-assembled sandwich from the platter. He looked considerately at the pile of sausage that Kili was currently making significant in-roads against.

“Balin was right behind me.” Kili offered as he bit into a piece of sausage and pulled the re-folded papers over to his side of the table.

“So I am.” Balin greeted as he and two of his apprentice's pushed through the door with brightly painted boxes in hand. “Your Majesty,” he bowed shallowly to Thorin. The bow was repeated in Kili's direction. “Your Highness.”

“Balin.” Thorin greeted. The two dwarrow behind him looked in fair prospect of toppling over onto the floor due to the weight of the boxes they carried. “Those boxes look particularly full this morning.”

“As they are every morning, laddie. Today we have the morning reports, then a closed Court session, the tour of the new water works, inspection of the parade grounds, and then the evening session with the High Councilor. So rather a full day.” Balin gave him a small smile and directed the dwarves to place the boxes on the table. “Let's start with the foreign reports, shall we?”

Thorin pulled his napkin from his lap and wiped his hands with a nod in Balin's direction. Balin shooed the apprentices back against the far wall and took possession of the first of the boxes: a garish red. Bilbo claimed it was the red of fall apples but it had always reminded Thorin of the red of the great forge deep within the caverns below.

“From Ered Luin.” Balin started, pulling out a stack of papers. “Reports of the on-going migration, the current food and materials plans for the next season, and gossip from the Her Royal Highness.” Thorin cocked an eyebrow at the last.

“I'm going to tell Dis you called her State of the Mountain report gossip,” Thorin threatened with a twist of his lips as he took the offered papers.

“And I will tell her from whom I first heard it referred to as such.” Balin retorted. As he did most mornings, he ignored the open chairs and instead bustled back and forth between his boxes. It was a well-worn ritual established when they had first taken on the responsibilities of keeping a Kingdom-in-exile running. The satisfaction Thorin felt over having it here, now, in his mountain easily overrode any complaints about the early hours.

“She’d laugh,” Kili interjected between bites. “Then proceed to make both your lives miserable for the foreseeable future.”

Thorin shared a smile with him and Balin gave a pleased huff to himself then went back to his fussing.

The reports were each several pages thick but there was a summary pinned to the front and relevant sections were flagged with small colored scraps of felt for Thorin's reference. Thorin read through the summary for each and passed them wordlessly to Kili, who then read them himself before placing them to his left. 

As each one was put aside, one of the apprentices stepped forward to collect and re-organize the papers to their (or more likely Balin's) exacting standards before the set was returned to the table for signing or to the third box for filing. It was a neat system that ensured that no-one's hands were ever empty and nothing was forgotten.

Together, Thorin and Kili quickly made it through the first set with little more than a few brief exchanges.

“Correspondence from the Greenwood.” Thorin didn’t need Balin’s commentary for the next set of reports; he could smell the elvishness of the pages. Bilbo swore there was no smell, just his dwarvish sensibilities being tweaked, but Kili had wrinkled his nose the moment the papers had been pulled from the box, as well. “Reports from the borderlands and trade agreements.” Balin continued.

“At least the stack is thin this morning.” Thorin grumbled.

“Thank Mahal for small favors.” Kili agreed. “I don’t care what Bilbo says. These stink. Do you think they found something only dwarves can smell?”

“Doubtful, laddie, or we’d all smell it.”

Kili wrinkled his nose as Thorin turned his attention to the reports. “Maybe it’s just alphas? Or it’s specific to our family?”

“That would be a handy weapon.” Thorin mused. His enhanced senses certainly made it easier for him to smell certain scents but it was Fili’s gifts, not Kili’s that most closely aligned with Thorin’s. Thorin and Fili had the Hunter's gifts: the ability to hear the lightest of footfalls and catch the faintest of scents on the breeze. Kili had the Warrior's gift: an enhanced sense of self. He could always tell, down to the minutest degree, where his hand may be in relationship to his eye or his foot in relationship to his hips. All of which granted him pinpoint precision in combat or competition. If the elves had found a way to target anyone with enhanced senses, regardless of the gift, that would be a true advantage to them.

“Anything’s possible, I guess.” Balin hummed in thought. “We can always put it to the Healer’s Guild or the Scholars to check.”

The elves had sent another request for the promised dwarven soldiers to supplement the elven patrols of the northern border. The Council had been mired in the debate over this issue since the spring and Thorin had long since lost what little patience he had for it. Unfortunately, an honest response to the Elven Court blaming the High Council for the delay was out of the question. Instead, attached to the request was a diplomatically worded letter assuring the Elven ruler that the issue was of utmost importance to Erebor and that it would be resolved as quickly as possible.

Thorin suppressed his own sigh as he passed the lot on to Kili and snagged himself another biscuit and sausage before Balin could hand him the next set.

Undeterred, Balin dropped another thick sheaf of papers on the table in front of him instead.” Correspondence from the Red Mountains.” Thorin started flipping papers with a finger not smudged with gravy. Balin could be vicious when his papers were marred through thoughtless handling.

“Balin, do you have the plan for the Deep Fells Span improvement?” Kili's question caught Balin mid-sort. He tilted his head a fraction to the side but nodded. “Of course.” He motioned to one of the apprentices, who stepped quickly forward. Thorin didn't bother listening to what was said and the apprentice was off a moment later with all speed but no unseemly haste.

“It'll be just a few minutes, your Highness.” Balin explained.

Thorin refocused to reading the report from the ambassador to the Blacklocks and Stonefoots. The on-going tension with the Stiffbeards who occupied the northern stretch of the Red Mountains continued to escalate and the ambassador warned of impacts to the local trade routes that supplied Erebor if something was not soon resolved upon. Thorin pulled over a blank sheet of paper from Balin's stack and penned a quick note. They would need to pull the last report from the ambassador to the Stiffbeard court and see if there is any way that Erebor can facilitate a detente. It served no one to have the two kingdoms at odds.

“Uncle?”

Thorin hummed questioningly as he finished his note and handed it off to Balin. Balin read it quickly and nodded his understanding.

“Uncle.” Kili requested again, tone firmer, pulling Thorin’s attention from his report.

Thorin looked up questioningly. Kili held forth a piece of paper for Thorin's review. “I think we may want to hold this response to the elves.”

Thorin glanced at the paper half full of flowing script. A translation had been provided but Thorin could and had read it perfectly well on his own. It was a short form letter confirming that Erebor had harvested two thirds of the agreed upon lumber from the trade acreage near Mirkwood. The response was an equally short standard reply in angular Khuzdul acknowledging the count and confirming the annual cap. Thorin had passed it on with barely a glance, secure in the knowledge that Balin's office would have verified the numbers down to the last tree and any discrepancies had been long since resolved.

“Why so?” he asked. Although it pleased him to see Kili questioning his decision on an item - he still deferred too often to Thorin on matters of State - Thorin couldn't imagine what it was about that particular item that would be grounds for review.

Kili motioned to the papers to his right, presumably the report Balin had sent for.

“The Stone Masons Guild and the Public Works Committee are working with the smiths to increase the production of piers for the Deep Fells Span.”

Thorin nodded. “They are to widen the span to allow two carts to pass abreast. The west quarry is the source of much of the stone being used to rebuild Dale.” It had been almost two decades since the men had struck their agreement with Erebor to supply stone and skilled stonemasons and much progress had been made but the project would likely last well into his nephews' reign.

Kili drummed his fingers on the top page of the plan. The hollow sound pricked at Thorin’s ears. “This calls for a two fold increase in steel production and the Smith Guild gets first choice for fuel.”

Thorin hummed noncommittally. He vaguely remembered a council meeting on this item several weeks ago. It had been a relatively quiet discussion with no dissenting votes, if he recalled correctly.

“The smithies must have coal to produce the steal for the piers but the coal stores are low due to flooding in the north slope mines. If we move forward with this plan, the price of coal will rise a great deal.”

With that key piece of information, Thorin could now see where Kili was striking at. It was a neat bit of analysis that Thorin hadn't even considered in his own review of the project.

“This will drive prices up for all fuels, including wood, which is used to heat homes.” Kili noted with a frown.

Thorin nodded and motioned vaguely with his open hand in the direction of Dale. “We need the stone,” he cautioned.

“We need the stone.” Kili agreed. “But the guilds should pay the cost of purchasing additional coal from Dain or wood from the Elves.” Here he absently waved the trade acreage letter.

Thorin considered Kili's proposal for a moment. The guilds would not be happy with the change but Kili was right; the cost should not fall to his dwarves, especially during the winter months when fuel was most in need. And if needs must, the Crown could off-set some of the increased cost in the name of maintaining relations with Dale; but he could hold that option in reserve until needed.

It was a sound proposition that Thorin was happy to let play out. “Agreed.” He nodded at Balin, who was furiously scribbling notes in one of his ledgers. In a moment, another apprentice was sent running.

“Well caught, Nephew.” Kili smiled and set aside the missive.

Poorly hiding his own grin, Balin reshuffled his papers and placed a small pile in front of each of them. “Now. If you'll just sign these, we can call this done.”

Sighing deeply, Thorin took up his quill and began to dutifully sign each item presented to him in the carelessly cultivated way of all official signatures. Kili gave a small, almost private eye roll in Balin's direction before he too was pressed into service signing the internal documents for filing.

Just as Thorin started to contemplate calling a halt to the signing to save his hand for actual necessary activities, the door leading back to the private chambers opened and a neatly coiffed Bilbo strode into the room. He was dressed for Court from the filigree crown on his head to the fine mithril chains draped about his ankles and the small emerald band around his longest toe that chimed just so on the stone floors of the halls. Had he not been the Consort, it would be absolutely scandalous; Thorin loved it.

Balin immediately sent a sharp signal to his apprentices that had them retreating from the room. His bow to Bilbo was, if anything, a minor degree deeper than the one he'd offered Thorin. “Your Royal Highness.”

Kili rose as well and offered his own small bow with a barely suppressed smirk. Bilbo snorted and waved them both off with a flip of his hand. 

“It is much too early for that nonsense, Balin. I've told you before that all of that is unnecessary.” Bilbo grumbled good naturedly as he sidled up to Thorin.

“Aye, so you have but as I've said before, you'll just have to allow an old dwarf his antiquated customs.” Balin began repacking his items, offering Thorin a moment to properly greet his Consort.

Thorin smiled as Bilbo leaned against his chair, conveniently within easy reach to allow Thorin to brush a kiss along the high arch of his cheek.

“Sire.” Bilbo greeted him with a fond smile.

“Consort,” Thorin offered in return with a private smile at Bilbo's theatrical, morning pique. Bilbo had washed and the warm smell of their bed has been lost but Thorin can still feel the thud of the bond between them, amplified by Bilbo’s proximity, slow and heavy like the beating of a great drum. Bilbo eyed Thorin critically for a moment then buried his fingers in Thorin's hair.

“Don't smirk at me,” he playfully sniped. “I know he only continues to stand on ceremony because you allow it.” Bilbo's nimble fingers worked loose Thorin's sleep mused braids and began reconstructing them to his own personal satisfaction. Thorin allowed his eyes to half close in contentment and let him work.

“Aye, most likely, but why would I want to change that?” he asked lazily. The truth was that Balin had already compromised in this fight and Bilbo well knew it. Thorin's own Grandmother had rarely deigned to speak to any dwarf other than close family from the moment she'd allowed the King to bond with her and she'd certainly never been seen by anyone other than her husband in their private chambers. That Bilbo, the crowned Consort and bonded to the King should continue to ask the Company to act as they had when he was just an unmated Hobbit traveling with a troupe of dwarrow on a suicidal quest was counter to the very core of their society.

“Oh, I don’t know. You could do it because I ask it?” he quipped giving one of Thorin's braids an overly sharp tug.

Thorin cracked an eye open and gave Bilbo his best innocent smile. “Perhaps I need convincing that this is in my best interest?”

Bilbo snorted indelicately. “Don't even act as if I haven't left you well pleased in just the last few hours.” A free thumb caressed his face along the edge of his right eyebrow and then was drawn back to the task of braiding as if it had never strayed.

Behind him, the sound of Kili coughing around his food almost drowned out Balin's pained groan. Thorin pulled Bilbo close to hide his grin in his Consort's curls. “Perhaps I have forgotten?” he husked lowly using their closeness and Bilbo's curls to disguise a stolen lick along the sensitive edge of Bilbo's ear.

Bilbo shivered sharply and pulled away. “Are you questioning my skills?” He tugged at another braid to emphasize the inherent danger to his point.

Thorin settled back silently, wisely conceding the field. Bilbo gave a satisfied huff and turned his eyes on the others just in time to catch the look of exaggerated horror on Kili's face.

“Don't even pretend that I don't know exactly what you and your brother get up to with whatever dwarf has captured your interest on any particular evening.” Bilbo admonished. Kili tried to look supremely unimpressed but the rosy flush to his cheeks gave him away.

Both his nephews were powerful alphas in their own right – a circumstance that could, and had, resulted in bloody civil wars before - but whatever strange connection had seen them through childhood had carried them past this challenge as well. Fili and Kili would both be King and how they sorted out the particulars Thorin never cared to think on too deeply.

It seemed Kili was of the same opinion when thinking on Thorin's own intimate relations as he shook his head once in distaste but wisely went back to signing the last of the Balin's papers.

Finished with Thorin’s hair, Bilbo leaned forward to gently bump his forehead against Thorin's then pulled back to turn sharp eyes on the table. Bilbo's nose wrinkled once and then again a second time. Thorin knew exactly what had caught his attention.

“I very clearly recall seeing the breakfast I'd ordered for you placed in our chambers this morning.” He put in mildly, as he let his hands fall from Bilbo’s hips where they’d migrated.

“Hmm. Yes. It was lovely.” Bilbo traced the ghost of his morning kiss with a small finger along the inside of Thorin's wrist then edged closer to the remains of Thorin and Kili's breakfast. Kili frowned at him but didn't move to stop Bilbo when he tugged the platter of meat and bread closer to himself.

“The kitchen made warm sugar rolls this morning. I'm surprised you didn't take one on your way out.” As he spoke, Bilbo quickly assembled three more sandwiches from the remaining bounty, carefully parceling out the meat and ensuring an equal favor of gravy for each. He pushed two sandwiches in Thorin's direction and kept one for himself, making quick work of it before it even made it to the table. He assessed the situation and then boldly stole one of Thorin's remaining sandwiches for himself, as well. Thorin just laughed and made a half-hearted attempt to protect his last biscuit from his thieving husband.

“Off to Court?” he asked pointedly looking at the now empty tray.

“Hmm. Yes.” Bilbo smiled as he popped the last bit of stolen biscuit into his mouth. “As should you be. Balin is falling behind today.”

Balin released an unsubtle sigh and gave up his attempts to appear busy. “We were on schedule until we became distracted, your Highness,” he offered pointedly.

Bilbo laughed. “Well then I shall leave you to it. Khor has a full schedule for me today but I expect to see you for dinner, if not lunch as well.” The dwarf in question appeared as if summoned from thin air poised to escort Bilbo from the room. 

“You’re invited as well, should you like.” Bilbo affectionately bumped Kili’s shoulder gently with his own. “And Fili?”

“I received a raven from him two days past. He’s on his way back to the Mountain but it’ll depend on how deep the snow has become in the passes.” Kili leaned into Bilbo for a moment then straightened and took up his pen with a flourish. “Besides, you will have to speak with Balin. I’m not sure our schedule allows for meals.”

Bilbo huffed a laugh and bussed Thorin quickly on the lips on his way past. “Oh, Balin knows better than to get between a Hobbit and his family meals. I’ll see you for lunch.” He promised and then sauntered out of the room. The bond between them gave a small thump in farewell. Beyond the door, Thorin listened to the muffled sounds of Bilbo and his entourage receding further into the halls until a quietly cleared throat brought him back to task.

Thorin forced himself to carefully add his signature to the remaining documents under Balin's watchful eye. “You'll have to do the letters while dressing, I'm afraid.” Balin instructed as he took the last of the signed missives from Thorin.

Thorin tried not to groan as he rose from his chair. “Didn't we discuss letting Kili respond to letters?” Kili offered him a smug salute with his refilled cup as he settled back to wait.

Balin shooed him into the antechamber, the final, green box held closely to his side. “I'm afraid Kili hasn't mastered the art of dressing and working at the same time.”

“Hey!” Kili's offended voice came from the receiving room. “I'm already dressed for Court!” The rest of his comment was cut suspiciously short. Something in Kili's appearance must not have met with Balin's standards, he supposed, and it was apparently being rectified.

Thorin just shook his head and pulled a letter at random from the box Balin held out to him. He began to read as he allowed himself to be prodded and turned in odd directions while his dressing gown was removed and his state robes were fitted by one of his attendants.

The green box was his favorite of his morning duties. Each day, it held a random selection of letters sent to the King from the dwarves of the Mountain. Most of the letters were dealt with by Balin's office but these few gave Thorin a rare, candid view at how his people fared.

The first letter he'd chosen this morning was on fine parchment and done in an elegant hand. K-- daughter of M-- cordially invited him to her bonding with D-- son of N-- to take place in a fortnight's time in the Memorial Garden.

Thorin offered his left arm to his attendant so that his shirt sleeve could be laced tight and his wrist fitted with a leather vembrace. He then tightened the laces on the right one himself, careful to protect the faint scent mark that Bilbo had left there that morning. One of Balin's dwarrow had followed them into the chamber and stood ready with a quill and a small notebook. Thorin caught her eye briefly before he began.

“K-- daughter of M--. Thank you kindly for your generous invitation. We wish you all the best on this happy occasion and hope this small - no humble - humble gift will serve as some small recompense for our being unable to attend. Our Mother was particularly fond of the reflecting pool in the south terrace of the gardens and we hope that you find the same peace and joy this day that she did when visiting the pool. Signed - Thorin II, Son of Thrain, King under the Mountain”

Thorin handed the letter back to Balin. “See that a small purse is sent with the letter and have the kitchens send an appropriately sized pastry for the party.”

Thorin ducked his head to allow a linked chain collar to be fitted across his shoulders and he used the opportunity to pull another letter from the box. This one was a petition for resolution from a jeweler who felt that his application for standing with the Jewelers Guild was being unfairly delayed due to an old feud between his father's family and the family of the local guild master.

“Does he have a case?” Thorin asked curiously. He handed off the letter and took his semi-formal crown from its display case. Like the Raven Crown of Erebor once favored by her Kings, it was a mix of precious metal and stone but instead of framing his face from cheek to crown, this one was a simple circlet that rested lightly on his forehead. Along the band were embedded seven jeweled stars, three along each side and a larger center star crafted from a lustrous fire opal that rose above his brow. Bilbo had commissioned it for no other reason or thought but Thorin’s comfort. It sat lightly on Thorin’s head.

“Who can say,” Balin shrugged. “It is true that there is a feud and it seems that his application has lingered but neither has the guild master approved any other application in its stead.”

Thorin hummed thoughtfully. “B-- son of ... No. Strike that. Master Jeweler B--. It is with sorrow that we received your petition. It saddens us that…” Here Thorin paused, unsure of what he really wanted to say to the dwarf. He couldn't be seen as favoring one dwarf over another but one of his hard and fast rules was that he never returned a letter to the box unaddressed. He took a moment to review his reflection in the mirror as he thought: robes, leather armor, crown, shining mithril beads in his redone braids. A King the image of all the Kings before him.

“Hold this response.” He decided instead, turning back to Balin and his apprentice. “Send a note to the Gem Cutters Guild master asking diplomatically if he can look into the matter. He is a friend of the Jewelers Guild but unrelated to either family, correct?” Balin nodded. “Good. See if he can resolve it. Then we can just send a letter of congratulations on the jeweler's posting once it's settled.”

He sat to pull on his light court boots and reached into the box one final time. The last letter he grabbed was barely a letter at all. Instead it was a small scrap of paper that looked like it had once been used as a wrapper for some package with two thick sentences scrawled across it in a childish hand. It was addressed to The Kingly Thorin Oakenshield and had a crude drawing of a dwarf with a crown and a sword two times his height. Thorin read it quickly and couldn't help his delighted chuckle.

“Kili,” he called as he made his way back to the receiving rooms, ready for morning Court. Kili joined him and Thorin handed him the letter as they made their way together to the outer halls. Kili laughed as well and gleefully took up Thorin's recitation.

“Dear O-- Thank you kindly for your letter alerting me to the unfair demands of your older brother regarding younger brothers not being allowed to fight goblins with him in the stone fields. You are correct; Erebor has no laws declaring that you are too young for such games.”

Together they headed past the public rooms of the palace and into the courtyard beyond, Balin keeping pace with all his apprentices save the one disappearing. The royal guards took up positions before and behind them, clearing the way for his passage as they entered the public spaces.

“As such, I promise that the Guardsmen will not arrest you and you are more than welcome to join him in his games, should you wish.”

Thorin aimed a mock scowl at his nephew. “Provided it has been sanctioned by your mother and father.”

“Provided your parents allow it.” Kili amended with a wink at the scribe. “Best of luck with the goblin hoards. Signed His Royal Highness, Prince Kili, Younger Brother to Prince Fili, Heirs to the Mountain.”

“You're going to start a dwarfling revolt,” Balin muttered just loud enough to be heard. Kili beamed at him unrepentantly.

Thorin clapped Kili on the shoulder affectionately before he took the lead as the entered the King's Court. There was a great shuffling of feet and creaking of leather as they entered the Hall. In a synchronized wave, the gathered dwarves all bowed low, fists to their hearts as the King was announced.

Thorin stood a moment looking over his dwarrow then nodded once and sat in the wide stone chair draped in Durin Blue with his banner hung prominently behind it. Kili performed his own bow to Thorin, this time the full Court bow expected of the King's Heir, and then sat in the slightly less ornate chair to Thorin’s left. On days when the Consort joined the King, the second chair was draped in the Consort’s heraldry; today it was Kili’s strung bow with the archer picked out in the seven stars of Durin's line like a midnight constellation.

Although it was a closed Court session and only those with a royal invitation attended, the hall was full. Great arches opened up to one of the public courtyards of the Palace and strategically placed mirrors reflected sunlight from tunnels carefully drilled through the mountainside into the space.

Thorin remembered playing in this sunlit hall as a dwarfling before his Grandfather had closed off the Mountain. As Thror’s sickness had progressed, his paranoia had grown, and he had order the Mountain sealed off including closing all the carefully drilled tunnels to the outside world that funneled air and sunlight down into the Mountain from Erebor's lofty peak. What should have been a last resort in times of great siege had become a way for Thror to keep an ever more rigid grip on his Mountain and his gold. After retaking Erebor, one of Thorin's first priorities had been to reopen the Mountain tunnels and repair the old air and mirror systems. Today, like every day, Thorin was quietly grateful for the returned light and what it represented to his Kingdom.

As the first name was announced, Balin spoke softly from his position just beyond the dais.

“Lord F--. Retiring as Ambassador to the Rohan Court. Seven decades in service of the Crown. Royal Service Order with Honors for distinguished service.”

In an impressive display of his skills, Kili offered his own addition without seemingly to speak at all. “Notice of his retirement resulted in an unprecedented number of broken hearts. Apparently he’s quite the poet and a Court favorite. All without a hint of scandal. It’s rumored that he gave the King a few pointers when he was wooing his Queen and she was very appreciative.”

Thorin could just imagine how difficult it must be for Kili not to waggle his eyebrows at the last. He smiled and offered his thanks for the old dwarf's service as the he bowed low before the throne. When he straightened with the help of a young dwarf Thorin assumed was a family member, Thorin offered a small bit of remembered poetry from his own readings extolling the joys of courtly love. A delighted grin spread across the dwarf's face as he responded in kind and offered his humble thanks to the King for the honors bestowed on him.

“Poetry, Uncle?”

Kili sounded aghast but his face remained pleasantly neutral.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Thorin murmured as the old ambassador retreated from the throne. “We are Princes of Erebor…” he recited.

Kili finished without pause, “and no Prince of Erebor is ever unprepared.”

It had been one of his father’s favorite sayings, especially whenever Thorin or his brother or sister had complained about lessons or duties. Dis had laughed until she cried the first time they heard it come from Thorin’s own mouth in response to a defiant Fili who much preferred sword practice over history lessons. Thorin very much looked forward to the first time he caught Fili or Kili uttering it to their own dwarfling.

The next dwarf to approach the throne was a scarred warrior. He walked with a pronounced limp but it was his obvious discomfort with his parade uniform that resonated with Thorin. 

“Captain N--. Being awarded the Star of Durin for heroic measures during the Battle for the White Mountain High Pass.” Balin offered.

“His son, a healer, was called to help with a sparring accident last year and ended up pinning back the ears of the soldier in charge of the exercise for his lack of attention to the recruits. The tirade supposedly lasted a full candle-mark without a repeated insult. The soldier was so impressed he asked to court him on the spot and they are to be married soon.” 

Thorin offered his congratulations both on the award and the upcoming marriage as the Lord General pinned the Star to the Captain's formal uniform. In return, he received an invitation to the wedding and the beaming smile of a proud father.

“Another purse and sweetbread?” Balin asked as the dwarf took his leave. Thorin caught his smile from the corner of his eye but the next in line was already approaching.

“Master Glass Smith R--. Receiving the Order of Merit for her unrivaled Mastery of her craft.”

“She's an orphan and works with one of the group homes Bilbo supports." Kili offered. "The ball team she coaches is fierce rivals with the local merchants. Winnings are paid in baked foods and donations to the House fund.” 

After being presented with her award, the dwarrowdam in turn presented Thorin with a stunning sculpture shaped from glass of the purest blues and greens. Thorin received the gift with heartfelt thanks and offered the services of the royal kitchen in preparing the bounty for the next match. The glass smith gladly accepted while putting in her own preference for spiced cookies, which Thorin had Balin duly note.

And so it went on.

It was finally the muted growl of Thorin's stomach that brought a break to the parade of honors. With a signal from a smirking Balin, the Court was adjourned for the day. Thorin rose and accepted the bows of the Court before he strode from the room followed closely by Kili and Balin.

Kili groaned as he flung himself down into a chair. “My stomach’s been complaining since the Broadbeam who wouldn’t stop bowing every time he spoke.”

“I’ll send a dwarf for your lunch, Sire.” Balin looked up to the ceiling as if asking the Valar for patience but made for the door to call in a page. Thorin held up a hand to stop him.

“Not for me. I would like to see if Bilbo has escaped his own duties. I'll return before our next appointment with…” The last was said with the upward tilt of a question. Thorin knew Balin had listed them off this morning but he had already forgotten.

“The tour of the new water works.” Balin supplied on cue.

“Before the tour then,” Thorin noted turning for the door.

Kili reached out an open hand to hold him. “Uncle?” he asked, a look of anticipation on his face.

Thorin paused and considered him silently for a moment. He'd discussed this with Bilbo and they both agreed that Kili and Fili should be familiar with the Consort’s Court but they hadn't discussed today's session in particular. Still, both his nephew's had become adept at navigating the duties of the King's Court and it was high time that his heirs saw the workings of the Consort's Court first hand.

He nodded slowly to Kili. “You may come. But hold any comments until lunch. I will answer then.”

Kili nodded solemnly but couldn’t help the happy smile he shared with Balin on their way out the door. True to his word, he followed Thorin silently to a small corridor just within the Palace's private halls. Turning beyond what appeared to be a blank wall, Thorin released the hidden latch that allowed them into a small antechamber. Along the length of the room to the left, the wall had been carved into an intricate motif of geometric shapes and lines creating a fine lattice of stone that allowed muted light and sound to filter through. Thorin drew Kili into the shadow of the carved wall and motioned for him to look through.

On the other side was a long courtyard almost a perfect mirror of the one Thorin and Kili had been presiding over all morning. Dwarves filled the space dressed in their finest clothes and guards and aides circulated through the room performing their duties. The only difference between the two Courts was in the platform just below the lattice. There seated at a broad table flanked on both sides by his own advisors presided the Consort under the Mountain.

Bilbo was listening intently to what the dwarf next to him was saying, his fingers tapping slowly on the tabletop before him. A mostly empty cup of tea sat on hand and several neat piles of papers attested to the busy morning he’d had. At length, he nodded and motioned to one of two dwarves standing before the table.

“We have considered your charge Master Baker. We would like to hear now from the other party.”

The second dwarf stepped closer and began to speak. Their argument seemed to resolve around a brick oven built to the exacting standards of the merchant over the design concerns of the mason. The oven had exploded, bringing down half of the shop and killing the one of the shop employees. The baker and mason had come to the Court seeking a decision on who was to blame for the accident and who was to pay the tithe to the dead dwarrow’s family.

Thorin's eye was drawn back to the head table as a familiar figure leaned forward to speak quietly to the Consort. Bilbo smiled and whispered something back, then redirected his gaze at the dwarves before him.

“Master Baker. You designed the oven over the protests of the builder and it is the expert's opinion that the design was indeed faulty and the stove should not have been in use. You were warned of this by the builder and chose to ignore it. It is therefore our decision that you are at fault for the accident and the damage to your shop. You shall pay half the sum requested by the family and you shall receive no funds for the repairs to your shop or the purchase of a new oven.”

The dwarf looked outraged but wisely held his tongue as Bilbo turned to the stonemason.

“Master Mason. It is our opinion that you are not innocent of these charges either. You knew the stove was unsafe but chose to complete it nonetheless. Neither did you try to notify your guild master nor that of the Baker's Guild of the unsafe conditions. As a Master Mason you have an obligation to build safe structures or to not build them at all. We therefore find you also at fault for the death and you shall pay the remaining half of the tribute.”

The dwarf noted sadly and seemed to accept Bilbo’s harsh words with no disagreement.

“We leave it to both Guild Masters to levy the appropriate professional sanctions on your work. You are both dismissed."

There must have been the faintest trace of the Silver Tongue's gift in Bilbo's dismissal as his dwarves jumped to obey. As the guards politely ushered both dwarves from the chamber, another name was announced and another dwarf stepped forward to have his petition heard.

“The Consort under the Mountain would like you to know that he doesn't appreciate you hovering when he's trying to get work done.”

Thorin smiled as Kili jumped half a foot in the air, just barely muffling his shout. In the Court below, Thorin watched a smirk flit across Bilbo's face.

Thorin calmly turned to face his friend. “Good afternoon, Nori. Is my Consort free for lunch?”

Nori's teeth flashed in the dim light of the chamber. “He ate ages ago. You let yourself get too involved in your duties and missed lunch. A bit put out, he was.”

Thorin just sighed. He had feared as much. Bilbo was never one to forget what time it was even when there were not meals involved.

“Very well, I suppose we shall be eating alone, Kili. Is he almost finished for the day?” He directed the last at Nori.

“Court?” Nori asked. “Yeah. I believe he has one more petition after this one. Then it's down to see one of his charity houses and back for the evening meal. Which he hopes you will be able to drag yourself away from your duties to join him for.” The last was recited almost note on in an imitation of Bilbo’s favorite snide tone.

“I'm sure Balin will keep me on schedule.” Thorin replied mildly.

Nori just grinned again and waved them to the door. “After you, Your Majesty. Your Highness.”

Thorin refrained from shouldering past Nori's conveniently close arm as he swept out the door but Nori's smirk clearly showed that he knew Thorin's mind.

In the hall, Nori turned to head back to the Consort’s Court and Thorin and Kili returned to their own duties. As the guards opened the door to the King’s Court antechamber, the delicious smell of food beckoned them in. Thorin entered the room to see a full meal set out on the table and the whole of it being overseen by a large black bird.

“Roäc,” Thorin greeted the raven as he took his seat.

Roäc bobbed a bow and then launched into a well-remembered speech that had Kili snorting into his soup about the dangers of skipping meals and how Thorin would get nothing done if he ended up short tempered from hunger. The raven had substituted some of his own colorful language for Bilbo’s and the tirade was a strange mix of bird and Hobbit humor with a few dwarf idioms thrown in for spice.

Not being a dwarf, nor a descendant of Durin, the ravens had ignored Bilbo for the first weeks of their residence in the Mountain. Bilbo had never been one to be ignored though and had launched a targeted campaign of treats and sweet-talking to win the birds over to his side. He’d even gone so far as to teach himself Raven’s Speak with the help of a few carefully smuggled texts from Balin. Roäc had been seduced by Bilbo's witty attitude despite his poorly accented attempts to communicate. And between one day and the next, it seemed, Thorin had been relegated to Roäc's nest-mate Moräc and Bilbo had gained an ally in the campaign to manage Thorin's life.

Thorin scowled at the laughing Kili and the raucous raven both. “I could have you dismissed to Raven Hill if I so chose,” he threatened.

Roäc cackled his harsh laugh and pecked imperiously at the table.

Thorin grudgingly took a spoonful of soup and a bite of bread. Having very pointedly swallowed the mouthful, he raised an eyebrow at the raven. “You may inform my Consort that I am eating lunch.” He commanded with all the imperious calm he could muster in the face of the absurd.

Roäc laughed again and offered a ribald jest before flying off through the bird’s tunnel carved near the ceiling.

Left alone, Thorin transferred his glare to the still chortling Kili.

“Peace, Uncle.” He immediately tried to school his face into a more bland expression, to mixed success.

Thorin let it pass in favor of other more pressing topics. “You have questions about the Court?”

Kili abandoned his own meal for a moment to focus on Thorin. “Is that normal for the Consort's Court? It seemed so...” He gestured vaguely as he looked for the right word. “Petty? Mundane perhaps? Why did they not go to the local magistrate?”

Thorin considered the question with a small frown. “Why do people send us letters directly?” He asked in turn between bites of bread. “Why do we respond to them?”

Kili twirled his spoon once and tapped it thoughtfully on the edge of his bowl. “They wish to know that we care. That we are engaged in their lives. That we know them not only as subjects but as individuals.”

Thorin nodded. “And that is the purpose of the Consort's Court. It is a forum to allow the dwarfs of the Mountain to be heard. No matter how petty the mater. If they apply to the Court and wait for their appointed date, they can petition the Crown for a ruling in anything they desire. Sometimes it is a dispute, like today. Sometimes it is a petition for patronage or assistance.”

“But I thought that the Omega's Court was for their own issues.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows and Kili blushed at his use of the archaic title but didn’t retract his statement. “It is true that non-alphas tend to seek the judgment of the Consort over that of a local magistrate, especially if the local court is alpha heavy. However, the Consort's Court exists whether or not there is an omega Consort.”

“Yes,” he raised a hand to forestall the response he saw poised on the tip of Kili’s tongue. “The throne of Erebor has been held by alphas since Durin first sat upon the throne. And historically, those Kings have sought omega Consorts but you well know that just because that is how it used to be done does not mean that that is how it must always be.”

Kili seemed to subside under the not so subtle reminder of his own relationship. He quietly quoted an old dwarfling's prayer. “ _Those few that the Valar have blessed, may Mahal look upon with favor. The alpha blessed of body and war. The omega blessed of mind and peace.”_

“Exactly. Bilbo may be my One, blessed by the Valar, but he would have presided over the Consort’s Court even had he not been born with omega gifts. Where the King's Court is focused on trade and foreign policy and governing the Mountain as it resides within the wider world, the Consort's Court focuses inward, ensuring the society and people of the Mountain are safe.”

Kili mulled this over as he began again to eat. “Is that why Nori reports to Bilbo?” he asked absently.

Thorin smiled as he finished the last of his own meal. “The position of Spy Master is unique in that it deals with threats both from without and within. Nori prefers to work with Bilbo.”

Thorin had once asked Bilbo how he could stand the never ending sessions with the Spy Master, afraid that Bilbo was letting old traditions and a misguided desire to conform to outdated dwarf social conventions that assumed that omegas should oversee affairs of the Mountain while alphas should oversee foreign maters force him into a position he hated. Bilbo had just laughed and assured Thorin that he found it stimulating. He’d compared it to the inter-family politics of the Shire, saying he enjoyed the back room wheeling and dealing. He certainly had the deft touch necessary for manipulating circumstances in the Crown's favor, so Thorin left him to it. Bilbo and Nori always let him know if there was something that he needed to be aware of or attend to.

“And when we are King?” Kili asked as he set aside his mug.

Thorin shrugged and passed a dangling length of hair over his shoulder and out of the way of his meal. “That will be up to you and Fili. One or both of you could take it on yourself or you can find someone else you trust to do so. Play to your strengths, not just your gifts. It will work out. I have every faith in you both.”

Kili crooked a humble smile at that but his eyes were far away and his mind obviously on other things. Thorin left him to his own thoughts. A discrete knock broke the silence and they both turned to see Balin let himself in.

“Missed lunch did you?” Balin asked with a private smile.

Thorin refrained from rolling his eyes. “I assume this means our break is over?”

“Indeed. If you'll follow me, we have a tour to attend to.”

Kili and Thorin both rose and set themselves to rights before following Balin out the door. The troop of Royal Guards that awaited them in the outer bailey had doubled in number from this morning. They had also picked up a few more weapons, Thorin was sure, but nothing was immediately obvious. Kili's guard, Aloki, stood at the front of the group next to Thorin's own personal guard.

“Captain.” Thorin greeted with a nod and a quick glance at the assembled soldiers.

“Your Majesty.” Ras gave a grave nod.

The argument that had erupted between Thorin and Dwalin when his friend had realized just how impossible it was to both serve as the King's personal guard and perform his duties as Captain of the Royal Guard was loud and vicious. Dwalin had wanted to immediately retire the post given to him by Thorin after the taking of the Mountain and was less than pleased with Thorin's demands that he stay where he had been placed. The argument quickly devolved to growling and fisticuffs and it finally took some frank language from Bilbo to resolve. He had stepped between the two, stared down Dwalin, and shared some very uncomfortable truths about how much Thorin needed someone in the position that he could trust to have not only the King's best interest at heart but be equally devoted to the protection of the entire Royal Household from Consort to Heirs to extended family and valued staff. 

Dwalin had given in with ill grace and then proceeded to cut a swath a furlough wide through the ranks of soldiers and guards on hand to find a suitable replacement to install at Thorin's side. Thorin wasn’t privy to the actual selection process but rumors were that it had been grueling and not the smallest bit bloody for some. In the end, personal guards were assigned to every member of the Royal Family and Dwalin settled into his position on high, directing everything from Palace security to the hiring of new household staff. Although he wasn't present this afternoon, Thorin had every confidence that this excursion had been planned and vetted under Dwalin’s careful eye.

Ras gave Thorin a once over, reaching out to give his leather breastplate a minor adjustment and then motioned to a dwarf in trainee grays to bring forth Thorin and Kili's weapons.

“We'll take an open box, as requested, down the Royal Mile to the piers then down the Deep Fells to the Painted Caverns,” he began. “Once we reach Founders Well there will be a short procession to the new water works building. We have news of both the expected local welcome and the usual suspects demonstrating.”

“We are in your capable hands, as always, Ras.” Thorin took Orcrist from the trainee and offered them a quietly murmured thanks. The dwarf went scarlet and bowed low enough to over balance a few steps. They were obviously just into their majority and easily over awed by the situation so Thorin refrained from commenting.

He belted on his sword, which was mostly ornamental these days but no less deadly, and turned to see Kili tucking a pair of daggers away in wrist sheaths in addition to another, more ostentatious pair at his waist. Kili caught Thorin's glance and nodded. Thorin inclined his head to Ras and everyone was suddenly on the move.

A partially closed cart decorated in Durin's colors and gilded along the edges was drawn forth by a pair of glossy-coated goats. Thorin and Kili took their places beneath the overhanging reinforced canvas while Ras sat with the driver and Kili's guard took a seat with an unobstructed view across Thorin. The procession of dwarves, goats and chase carts lurched into motion and then they were through the Palace and out into the city.

The Palace was built on an overhang deep within one of the largest chambers within the Mountain. As they exited the main gates onto the Promenade, Thorin could see down the long incline to the cavern's floor and out into the surrounding cityscape. A large park lined the roadway down into the city, with its hearty foliage nourished by the sunlight reflected into the mountain and the careful attention of its dedicated staff. The wide avenue had been cleared for them by the guard but as they passed, Thorin could see civil servants, residents, and visiting dwarves on foot or in carts some waiting patiently and others waving wildly as the Royal procession passed. Kili waved back enthusiastically to all of them garnering delighted smiles from young and old alike. Thorin greeted everyone with a bit more composure but was equally attentive in returning greetings.

“So how did you know about the glass smith's ball team? Bilbo?” Thorin asked as they entered the city proper and buildings closed in around them.

Kili threw him a quick smirk between waving at a dwarfling on an adult's shoulders and smiling at a group of dwarrowdams. “Are you accusing me of cavorting with your consort?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

“Cavorting? No.” Thorin snorted as he nodded to passing dwarves. “Bribing or manipulating with one of your looks? Definitely.”

“I cannot help my charms, Uncle.” Kili's voice was warm with suppressed mirth.

Aloki snorted and did a poor job of hiding her smile. Her gaze cycled constantly between the guards and carts pulled in close by the narrow streets and the dwarves and buildings they passed but her ears obviously worked well enough.

Past the bulk of the on-lookers, Thorin focused his attention on Kili. “Bilbo then. And I suppose one of Balin's dwarves passed on the story of the Ambassador and your guard the one about the Captain?”

Kili shrugged. “We actually met up with the Captain's legion the last time I was on patrol. His troops were happy to share the story over a warm meal and a few joint days hunting orcs.”

Thorin nodded. Understanding the defense of their Mountain and the realities of life for those who protected it was just one of the reasons why the royal family traditionally served. Building relationships and joining in the joys of their dwarves were equally important reasons.

The carts pulled through an archway into a protected alcove and Thorin and Kili both descended to the street. The sound of boots and hooves rang in the enclosed space as their guards and the additional carts and goats arrived.

“What I can't guess is how you knew of the Priest's prized pig.” 

Kili laughed as they were directed through a smaller arch out onto one of the Deep Fell piers. The Deep Fell was a great fissure carved into the Mountain by Mahal that connected each of the major caverns that made up the dwarf settlement. Miles wide and even more miles deep, it was strung with cables and hanging carts, spanned by massive bridges, and illuminated by both reflected sunlight and great fires. A constant flow of air passed through, pushed by the strong winds of the Mountain and great dwarven built wind blades set high in the mountain peak.

“That story, I will leave to Fili to share. You should definitely ask him about it.”

Thorin didn't want to really be involved in whatever mischief Kili was perpetuating but the story behind how the priest had lost and subsequently found his pig in a neighbor's bed and how his nephews had learned of the episode might be too much of a temptation to resist.

“This way, your Majesty.” Ras shepherded Thorin into one of the hanging carts used to transport dwarves between levels of the Mountain and securely fastened the door, leaving everyone else behind. Kili and his guards would follow in another vehicle once Thorin was safely transited to the next section of track. 

Sometimes Thorin missed the road. He'd never been alone, certainly not as the Crown Prince of the Mountain and not even as an exiled Prince in Ered Luin. But there had been times, on the road, where he had only been with Dwalin and a few other good friends doing double duty as guards. He would never regret winning his Mountain, bringing peace to his dwarves and providing them with a home, but for a few decades, he had had a bit more freedom in his life and some days he missed that.

As they descended through the Mountain, Thorin watched the lights along the far side slip by along with carts full of dwarves and goods. Great piers jutted out into the Fells at odd intervals as they passed larger caverns and settlements. A strong breeze pushed against his face, raising the hairs along his neck in a small chill.

“How did your betting pool end, Ras? Did the Brawlers come out on top?” he asked idly to pass the time.

Ras lounged against the other side of the cart, eyes alert. He was a large dwarf, equal in size to Thorin and Dwalin, and took up most of the far wall. “Unfortunately not,” he grimaced as he tucked his hands behind his hips along the rail. “But I only lost a few silver pieces. I know better than to bet on fool's gold. Ever since they replaced the team Captain, they haven't placed higher than third in the league. Only an idiot would bet on them making the championship.”

Thorin clicked his tongue in sympathy. “I heard that Weal has decided to leave the Rams and is in talks with several teams. Even if the Brawlers don't grab him, there are sure to be changes in leadership on a number of teams before the next season.” Thorin absently wondered if he could convince Dwalin to let him and Ras attend the upcoming championship game. Traditionally the Royal Family maintained a box for most events but there always seemed to be something more pressing then attending games.

“We can only hope,” Ras grumbled as their cart came to a stop at the Painted Cavern pier. Like a rare stone, Thorin was passed carefully into the care of the soldiers on the dock as Ras turned to coordinate the transfer of the remaining group from above, which included his nephew.

When the shuffling of dwarves was over, Aloki approached them both.

“The works are three blocks down on the right. Between here and there, please stay within the cordon and try not to wander off.” The last was directly at Kili who just smiled benignly. 

Thorin resettled his cloak and set his countenance into the one he used when greeting the public. It never felt quite at home on his face but Bilbo swore that it was better - more relaxed and approachable he claimed - than Thorin's typical expression.

A muffled snigger came from his right but when he glanced at Kili he got the same innocent look that he had just bestowed on Aloki.

Giving it up as a lost cause, Thorin strode through the guards down off the pier and into the street beyond.

A fairly large crowd seemed to have gathered to welcome him into their settlement and Thorin made time to stop and greet a few personally. There was a lot of grasping of hands (mostly Thorin) and kissing of cheeks (mostly Kili) as Ras and Aloki kept an eye on the crowd and the guards maintained the peace. At one point Kili bumped Thorin's shoulder and when he turned an inquiring eye, blatantly deposited a squirming dwarfling into Thorin's arms.

Thorin blinked at the small babe who blinked back just as solemnly. The sweet smell of baby powder and soft skin flooded Thorin's senses and he found himself drawing the child close and giving it a quick nuzzle. 

“Hello, little one.” he murmured, dropping a light kiss upon the baby's forehead. By the grace of the Valar, the dwarfling only burbled a spit bubble and grizzled a little.

Looking up, he deposited the child into the waiting arms of its father and passed on with a brief smile. “You are no longer my favorite,” he commented under his breath to Kili as he continued down the street.

Kili ignored him in favor of waving at a group of dwarflings lined up at a corner but his obvious joy was hard to ignore. Thorin's bond with his mate shifted deep within his chest and he couldn't help the deep swell of contentment that swept through him.

“Just this way, your Majesty,” a guard instructed as they turned the second corner and approached a large set of gates thrown open to the street.

As they closed the distance, Thorin caught sight of Kili stiffening in his periphery and immediately turned to look at what had caught his attention. Off to the side of the gate, a number of dwarves had set up a small encampment with large signs and garish streamers. With a counter demonstration doing its best to drown them out, the chanting of the discontented could barely be heard but Thorin knew them well. For close to two decades they had been harping on the same things: the hobbit and the Arkenstone, the peace with the Elves, sharing of the Mountain's wealth with Men.

“Peace, Kili," he cautioned.

Kili growled deep in his throat as the guards closed in a bit funneling them toward the gate and the welcoming party waiting there.

“Do they not understand what you sacrificed to get them here? What Bilbo did to aid us all?” he snarled softly.

“Ignore them, Nephew.”

“How can you care so little?” Kili asked frustrated. “The things that they call Bilbo...”

Thorin cut him off quickly. He had heard the smears well enough on his own. “Hungry dwarrow have no time to spit curses at the Consort.” He drew Kili to a halt and turned him to face him conveniently away from the demonstrators. The guards surrounded them, giving them a brief moment of almost privacy.

“Those who are worried about where they will sleep at night or if their young will awaken in the morning, don't camp out in front of newly opened businesses for hours waiting for you or I to pass by. If a few dwarves wish to spend their time spewing hate under the peace that we've brought this Kingdom, then let them. They change nothing.”

Thorin understood his anger. His words were hard earned wisdom bought with time and more than a few late night arguments with his Consort but he could see that Kili understood, even if he didn't perhaps agree.

Kili nodded once, mouth set and Thorin squeezed his shoulders lightly for a moment. The guards were again immediately on the move and soon enough they had passed through the gates into the new water works.

“Your Majesty! Welcome to you and your Royal Highness Prince Kili!”

Thorin nodded graciously at the lanky dwarf that stepped forward to greet them. “Please if you'll follow me, we have prepared a tour for you and a chance for you to meet some of our designers and engineers.”

Accompanied by a reduced guard, Thorin and Kili were shown the highlights of the new works. A deep well and pump system had been built to pull water up from the River Running and supplement it with natural springs and water deposits from the Mountain. The collected water was filtered and treated and then distributed into the surrounding settlement for use by the inhabitants.

During the dragon’s occupancy, the old water system in this part of the Mountain had collapsed and was filled with rubble. Since then this cavern had only had a few shallow springs to serve its dwarves but the new system would both guarantee clear water for the current residents and allow the city to expand deeper into the unused portions of the cave bringing more trade and opportunities for everyone. A portion of the project had been funded through a grant from the Crown and now thanks to the hard work of the dwarves and the money from the Treasury, it was poised to open.

They clasped shoulders, asked questions, and congratulated everyone on the project and in turn left proud dwarves behind. As the tour began to wind down, they were shown into a second story platform that overlooked the new aqueduct system where water would flow from the works to the city. Thorin gave the short speech he had practiced diligently with Bilbo for the past week and with a flourish, Kili opened the sluice to allow the water to flow. The crowd on the platform and in the courtyard below burst into happy shouts and applause.

Thorin had just finished congratulating the local Magistrate when his heart suddenly dropped into his stomach and his lungs seized. Ras was immediately at his side to pull him away from the crowd.

“Your Majesty?” he asked in confusion, gaze darting between Thorin and the surrounding dwarves as he looked for the cause of Thorin's distress. Over his shoulder, Thorin could see Kili step in quickly to continue to pass on the Crown's congratulations. He got one sharp glance full of worry before Kili was once again all smiles and courteousness.

Thorin tried to breath deeply and center himself. Carefully, he cataloged the bond with his mate, looking for any clue as to what had happened. It was still there, Mahal be praised, but something had happened to put Bilbo on edge.

“Something is wrong,” he spoke shortly. “Not me. Bilbo.” He straightened his collar and brushed an annoying bit of hair back over his shoulder. Ras immediately started looking for exits and discretely signaled his guards.

A raven suddenly burst through one of the bird tunnels and barreled into Thorin with a flurry of feathers and wings. “Calm, Roäc.” Thorin soothed, although his own nerves had his senses spiking. He ran a thick finger down the center of the bird’s trembling back, hoping to help it settle. “What has happened?”

Roäc hopped from foot to foot in agitation barely keeping his balance on Thorin's forearm with outspread wings. In his harsh voice, he croaked out his obviously verbatim message from the Consort. “I'm fine. Meet me in the King's Court as soon as possible.”

“Tell him, I'm on my way,” he commanded and the raven was in the air and winging away.

Ras immediately claimed Thorin's attention. He was directed out a backdoor and ushered onto a waiting pony obviously commandeered from a local stable. Together they made the trip back to the pier in no time and were quickly being hoisted back up to the Central Cavern.

Thorin was only paying the most cursory of attention to what Ras was saying but he caught enough to understand that Kili had made their excuses and was already following close behind. They would both be ushered into a closed cart at the pier above and taken directly to the Palace with all speed.

Thorin just grunted, his hand closing convulsively on Orcrist's grip to keep him from rubbing at his wrist and Bilbo's lingering scent. He internally examined his bond, looking for any weakness, and wished he had Bilbo’s talent for manipulating the bond to send subtle messages to his bondmate. Under his awkward examination it felt a bit tender, as if Bilbo had clutched at it too strongly. But it was still there and still strong. Whatever had happened hadn't been deadly or he would have known.

Unfortunately, Thorin also well knew his Consort. Bilbo's definition of ‘fine’ could, and had, included run-in with wargs and battles with creatures deep within goblin tunnels. Both of which had left him in a rough state that Thorin would never have considered as 'fine'.

There was little he could do though until he was striding quickly through the Palace bailey and throwing open the doors to the King's Court when he outpaced his own guard.

At his dramatic entrance, Bilbo rose from the Consort's Throne and made his way quickly to meet Thorin mid-room. His entire guard followed him, two dwarves going so far as to lay hands on his shoulder and back to keep track of his progress.

“What is the meaning of this?” he snarled torn between looking at Bilbo and glaring at the two guards handling his Consort. The troop stepped back and resolved themselves into a perimeter between Bilbo and the other dwarves waiting in the Court, including most judiciously, the two guards who had had their hands on Bilbo. Absently, Thorin noted Balin and Dwalin and Nori along with other assorted civil servants and soldiers that Thorin vaguely recognized grouped behind the guards. In the newly empty space left behind Bilbo stood a pair of guards holding another dwarf tightly by his arms.

The dwarf struggled briefly but was unable to shake off his captors. He glanced once at Thorin and then lowered his eyes immediately. “I beg your mercy, Your Majesty,” he spoke through the crowd.

Thorin's own guards stepped forward to flank the King while Kili, Thorin noticed, had stepped forward to guard his left hand side, his hands on his daggers.

“For what crime?” he barked. Everyone seemed to be talking at once but he ignored them all in favor of Bilbo. “Consort?” Bilbo looked frazzled. His crown was slightly askew, caught on one ear, and his cloak hung uneven to the floor. On anyone else it might be just a sign of inattention but Bilbo was never so lazy with his attire.

“He grabbed me.” Bilbo’s words froze the entire Court, all conversation coming to a deafening halt. Thorin’s heart seized in shocked anger and for a minute his ears rang. Kili made an aborted move towards them but Thorin shouldered through the surrounding guards before Kili could grab him and gripped the unknown dwarf roughly by his tunic. The dwarf rose to his toes, trying to keep a steady foot on the floor as Thorin drew him up. Bilbo wisely didn't try to stop him but moved adroitly to stay within Thorin's line of sight and well within the extent of his senses.

Thorin’s rage battled with his sudden need to remove his Consort from the situation entirely.

“It was an accident." Bilbo boldly stared into Thorin’s eyes, demanding his full attention. "I immediately let him know how unhappy I was with his presumption and ensured he released me. No harm was done.”

For a brief instant, Thorin's rage burned incandescent but Bilbo stood firm in the face of Thorin’s anger.

“Clear the Court!” Kili commanded drawing everyone's attention from the staring contest between King and Consort. The Court Guards quickly moved to hustle all the dwarves except their closest advisers out of the chamber. Most went willingly but a few craned their heads back to catch a last glimpse of the proceedings.

“Explain,” Thorin commanded with a low growl. He was taller than the dwarf he held by almost a hand span and he used every bit of his height to his advantage. Not that the dwarf was struggling. He hung passively in Thorin’s grip. And now that he was closer, Thorin could see that he sported a broken nose and one eye was beginning to swell closed. He also held one hand close to his chest and it looked like several of his fingers were misaligned.

The Captain of the Consort's Guard took a step forward and began to speak, filling in the missing bits of the story. “The Consort was in the lower court visiting one of his charities, as scheduled. An altercation at a nearby establishment spilled out into the street and spooked the crowd. We moved to pull the Consort back from the immediate area but the crowd closed too quickly. The Consort stumbled into another dwarf and was grabbed. We immediately moved to separate them but he'd already focused on the Consort. The Consort had to extricate himself with force.”

 _Extricate himself with force._ This dwarf had instinctively registered an omega and he had fought to retain possession of Bilbo against his guards. Even when Bilbo himself had tried to move away. Even though it should have been immediately clear, if he’d fully examined the situation, that Bilbo was already bonded.

Thorin growled again, long and low and full of bloody threats. The other dwarves in the room flinched away, even his house guards. The dwarf at the center of it all went completely limp, allowing his feet to drag and his head to hang. His hair fell to the side bearing a pale stripe of skin showed between shoulder and head, sheened in sweat.

“He didn't recognize me, Thorin. It was a confused situation and his instincts got the better of him. He immediately surrendered himself as soon as he realized what had happened.”

 _As soon as Bilbo had broken his fingers to get him to release his grip and the Consort’s guard had pinned him to the ground most likely_ , Thorin thought wrestling internally with his savage anger.

To have an alpha touch a bonded omega that was not his mate in any situation other than a life and death one was anathema. Add to that that the dwarf had touched the Consort to the King under the Mountain and the offense would have seen him minus his head under his Grandfather's rule.

“Thorin?” Bilbo had stepped closer and once again, Thorin was struck by the deep thrum of their bond resonating between them. The pull of it gave Thorin something to focus on other than his anger in the moment.

“I'm listening, Consort.” He shook the dwarf in his grip once hard then released him to fall to the floor. Thorin took one deliberate step back to place space between them. Bilbo moved around to stand just to the side and a half pace behind him. It wasn’t close enough to touch but in his heightened state, Thorin could smell and feel the comforting heat of him just within reach.

“What is your name?” he snarled at the dwarf before him.

The dwarf struggled awkwardly to his knees trying not to use his injured hand. Thorin sneered in satisfaction at the evidence of Bilbo’s attack.

“Teath, son of Daet and Thamdouth.” His voice came out high and thin.

“Teath. I recognize my Consort's claim that you displayed no malice towards him but that does not change the fact that you put your hands on my bonded Consort.”

Theath seemed to sink further into the floor. “Your Majesty,” he swallowed audibly, “I humbly…”

“Do not speak.” Thorin barked. “You are stupidly undisciplined Teath and you are lucky it did not get you killed. You should know better than to touch what has not been offered, even in a 'confused situation'.” The last was said with a sneer that left no one in doubt of what Thorin thought of the excuse.

The dwarf nodded hastily and Thorin heard a soft exhale of gratitude from behind him. Truly it was only the thought of Bilbo’s sorrow that was stopping Thorin from beating the dwarf within an inch of his life.

“You are to receive 20 lashes and report to your local Captain of the Guard. You will explain to him your lack of discipline and he will ensure that you receive appropriate training in self-control. He will report directly to me when he believes you have learned to keep your hands to yourself. Do not fail at this, Teath.” Thorin stated darkly.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Thorin stepped back again, placing himself between his Consort and every other dwarrow in the room. “Everyone out,” he ordered harshly, no patience for social niceties.

The guards immediately moved to pull Teath to his feet and march him out the nearest door. Balin and the King’s Guard followed. Kili deliberately placed himself in the doorway, back to Thorin and Bilbo, a living wall to bar any who may think to enter before Thorin was ready.

As soon as the room was clear, Bilbo turned him with strong hands on Thorin's arms. He raised his palms to frame Thorin's face but hovered just short of touching. With a shudder, Thorin tilted his head down into his Consort’s and Bilbo buried his hands in Thorin's hair. Together they breathed for long minutes: a synced in and out that mirrored the deep rhythm of their blood and bond.

“I want to see.” Thorin brought his hands up to cup Bilbo's shoulders, smoothing them up the length of his arms slowly as if he could somehow feel the shadow of the other dwarf's hands.

Bilbo hummed noncommittally. “I'd like to wash first.”

Thorin would rather not wait but he recognized the sense in Bilbo's suggestion. A wash would allow Bilbo time to center himself and a chance to remove any superficial reminders of the day. It would also allow Thorin time to work through some of his temper and fully clear his schedule.

“Go then. I will talk to Balin and will join you shortly.” Thorin offered softly, not liking the choice even for all the sense it made.

“Take your time. I'd rather you finish what needs to be done and then join me without the threat of being called away.”

Thorin gave him a quick, hard kiss and then Bilbo slipped out the door. Kili gave Thorin a nod and then moved off after Bilbo. Thorin knew he would ensure that Bilbo reached their chambers without being bothered. He listened to their footsteps retreating for long moments then focused on Balin who entered the hall followed closely by Dwalin. Thorin stared hard at his Captain of the Royal Guard. As such, he was ultimately responsible for today's 'accident'. Even in his own mind, Thorin couldn't help but sneer at the word chosen by Bilbo.

He clenched his fists and began to stalk back in forth across the width of the hall, trying to burn away some of the energy still singing in his veins.

“Tell me this was just an unlucky turn of circumstances and not something more, Dwalin.” He demanded as he reached the far wall and turned back.

His friend shook his head. “I can't do that. Not yet. But I will find out what happened and I will fix this.”

Thorin snorted. “Fix this? It seems to me that Bilbo has taken care of this for you.”

Dwalin stood stoically in the face of his scorn.

“His guards should not have been so easily overwhelmed!” Thorin raged. His voice echoed with a dull roar in the empty hall.

“Aye.” Dwalin nodded, folding his hands behind his back, offering no response to Thorin’s building threat. “And the local shops and taverns should have been screened before the beginning of the event to identify just these types of issues.”

“Someone will answer for this.” Thorin forced himself to stand still and uncurl his fists. Dwalin was not the enemy here.

“But it needs to be the right person, Thorin. That will take time.” Balin moved forward, drawing his attention. Thorin wanted to argue, but the words he needed to express his fear and rage adequately escaped him.

“Let Dwalin do his job. If there is someone within Bilbo's guard that cannot be trusted either for reasons of incompetence or treason, he'll find them.”

Thorin took a deep breath. Dwalin’s battle ready alpha scent flooded his nose, teased with the calm assertiveness of Balin and below it all, the lingering warmth of Bilbo. Thorin closed his eyes and concentrated on the scent of his Consort – dissipating but still there and warm and unharmed.

When he felt slightly more stable, he opened his eyes and focused on Balin. “Very well. Tell me we're done for the day.”

“Almost, Sire.” Balin smiled encouragingly. “I have cancelled the parade ground inspection but you should still meet with the High Counselor. I have sent a messenger to notify him that his audience has been moved up immediately but it will still take some time for him to arrive.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse but he knew Balin was right. Frustrated, he growled at Balin as he turned to leave the room. “Fine. I'll be in the salle. Send him there.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Balin stated but Thorin was already stalking from the room.

There was no one in the hall and Thorin only caught hints of his guards working to ensure that it remained that way as he swept through. Thorin began to strip the more ostentatious of his clothing as he walked, making quick work of the distance to his personal training ring.

Thorin had less time, and honestly, less need, to be combat ready these days but he still worked hard to maintain a high level of combat prowess. Since he had disconnected the Pale Orc's head from his body with extreme prejudice and somehow gone on to survive the Battle for the Mountain, there hadn't been a lot of call for his skills but old warriors’ habits died hard.

Throwing open the doors to the salle, Thorin stalked over to one of the benches placed along the walls and dropped his cloak and jewelry. He removed his crown with a bit more care then efficiently stripped down to his trousers and undershirt. A leather thong from his discarded breastplate served well enough as a tie to keep his hair out of his face. Bare footed, he stepped onto the soft sand of the training ring.

Even with his anger still driving him, he forced himself to take the time to stretch out each of his major muscles as he'd been taught. To practice without a warm up would result in more pain than he was willing to endure even for the sake of his temper. Finished, he picked up his staff and began to move through the ritualized positions and movements of the sword wielders. Nearly two hundred years of performing the exercises made the forms second nature.

“Care to spar, your Majesty?”

Thorin snarled at his own inattention; he hadn't heard anyone approaching. He swept the staff low and fast in a move meant to clear his immediate area of enemies, turning to face his nephew. Fili stood loose-limbed and dressed down, wisely just outside the reach of Thorin's weapon.

Thorin growled at the other dwarf. “That would not be wise right now, Fili. I'm sure that your brother is looking for you and he would be far better company.” He honestly wasn't sure if he could physically tolerate another dwarf in his space right now, even one that was family. With one hand he pulled his shirt over his head and used it to mop up the worst of the sweat that he’d built up in his exercises. The cool air of the salle felt good as he rubbed across the matted hair of his chest.

“How do you think I found you? News travels fast.” Fili kicked off his boots before entering the ring. They were caked in mud and wet through, a testament to his recent travels. Thorin threw his shirt away and moved to put space between them but Fili immediately went on the offensive. He attacked low and hard trying to use his size and speed to get within Thorin's defenses before he could bring the staff to bear.

Thorin forced Fili from his path with a short thrust of the staff. Had it been a pike, it would have hooked an armored dwarf's mail and dragged him within reach of Thorin's short sword. As it was, it forced Fili to twist to the right and back out of range.

Thorin brought the staff down on Fili in a whistling overhead swipe. Fili danced out of reach, feet light on the sand. “Dwalin thinks that you're upset over the possibility that someone tried to kill Bilbo.”

Thorin growled. “Is that supposed to be helpful?” He circled the staff behind his back and whipped it across at Fili's unprotected side. Fili to turned away but he sacrificed his leg to the vicious brow. As he went down, he twisted his body around the wood and rolled, wrenching it from Thorin's grip.

Thorin moved quickly to drive Fili in the other direction from the fallen staff. Fili responded with a flurry of kicks that bought him the space to rise but now they were both weaponless.

“I'm nothing but helpful.” Fili smiled, “Ask my mother.”

Thorin barked out a rough laugh. “I know your mother quite well and can safely say that 'helpful' would not be the word she would use.” He and Fili circled each other. Thorin watched Fili’s fingers twitch, anticipating the coming grapple.

“All lies. But that's not what we were discussing.” They came together with the solid impact of two well-trained and fully muscled warriors. Fili was still in his shirt, which gave Thorin a convenient handhold but Fili just wrapped his hands around the waistband of Thorin’s trousers. For a long moment they strained against each other, Fili trying to lift Thorin and Thorin trying to unbalance Fili.

"I think, this is all something much simplier. You weren't there to keep someone from touching what was yours," Fili panted. 

“You don't think that if another dwarf put his hands on Kili that that wouldn't be just cause for anger?” Thorin snarled in Fili’s face, inches away.

Fili gave a great heave and dumped Thorin on his ass in the sand. “I didn’t say that,” he spat at Thorin but stepped back to allow him to regain his feet.

“Accidents happen,” Thorin panted, circling back around Fili, looking for another opportunity to close in.

“Yes, they do. You can't protect him from them.” Fili deliberately crossed his feet but Thorin ignored the opening. It was an old feint he’d pulled on Fili and Kili often enough and had had turned on him when he was younger.

“I know that,” he scowled continuing to circle.

Fili shook his head, clearing his face. His hair swung free but heavy with his own sweat and his shirt was stained through. “He can take care of himself.” He stepped in towards Thorin but as Thorin went to grab him, he stepped away, leaving Thorin with nothing but air.

“I know that.” Thorin growled again in exasperation. He rushed Fili but was again met by nothing but air.

“He won't thank you for smothering him.” Fili called from behind him.

Thorin turned sharply in his next rush, catching Fili’s foot and dragging them both down to the sand. “Enough, Fili!” he growled as the wrestled briefly. “I am well aware that Bilbo would have my stones for even suggesting that he curb his charitable excursions or take on fewer duties. That doesn't change the fact that he could have been hurt or killed had Teath been less of an untrained dwarf and more of an assassin!” He punctuated the last with a sharp shake, forcing Fili’s shoulders back into the sand and straddling his suddenly lax body.

“No, it does not.” Fili agreed, no longer fighting. “But if you had lead your life on the fear of what might be, we never would have left Ered Luin and Bilbo Baggins never would have left the Shire. It is your boldness, Uncle, that calls you to each other.”

Thorin hung his head panting, his anger ebbing away like a cold tide. Suddenly tired, he rolled off of Fili to sit in the sand. Fili bounced back to his feet with an unhealthy level of energy and offered him a hand up. Thorin took it gratefully.

Once they were both standing Fili stared at him hard for a moment then let a wide grin split his face. “Well! I think my work here is done.” Thorin was tempted to roll his eyes at Fili's suddenly jovial tone. Others may fall for his and Kili's act but as Fili had just so aptly demonstrated, it was a poor facade.

“Mission accomplished, brother?” Thorin turned to see Kili leaning alertly against one of the paneled walls. Fili smiled at him and Thorin saw the edge to Fili's smile soften just the tiniest bit in seeing his brother.

“A victory for the sons of Durin.” Fili announced with a laugh and an expansive gesture.

Thorin snorted. “Welcome home, Nephew.” He reeled Fili in by the arm still grasping Thorin's own. Gently he bumped his forehead against Fili's and again he was rewarded with the softening of Fili's grin into a private smile, this time for him.

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“Kili.” Thorin called while he continued to hold onto Fili.

Kili strode over and less than gently bumped Thorin's forehead with his own as well.

“Uncle.”

Thorin just smiled at him as well. “You did well today.”

A small, pleased smile curved his lips. “Thank you, Sire.” Fili leaned into Kili's side, silently sharing Kili's joy.

Thorin stepped away from his nephews leaving them to their own private exchange. “I think tomorrow, Balin and I can take care of the morning duties ourselves. And I don't believe Court will be in session.” He called behind him as he turned from his nephews and walked across the salle to where he'd left his clothes.

Balin, who had been standing unobtrusively in the shadow of the archway stepped forward as he approached. “Your Majesty. The High Councilor has arrived.”

“I believe, brother, we should escape while we can.” Kili mock whispered behind Thorin's back. With a shake of his head, Thorin waved them off. Shoulder to shoulder they strode from the room. Just past the door, Thorin heard their footsteps falter and the soft sounds of a more intimate greeting take over. Resolutely, Thorin focused his hearing elsewhere and silently wished them well in their own private reunion.

Thorin remove the tie from his hair and dragged his tunic over his head, foregoing his abandoned shirt. Balin handed him his crown and stepped away. Draping his fur lined robe over his shoulders, Thorin seated himself and took the large cup of water and towel placed aside for him.

“He may enter,” he allowed. Balin nodded and stepped through the closest door to be replaced almost immediately by the High Councilor. He bowed deeply and Thorin waved him in.

“Your Majesty.”

Lamli was a young dwarf by their standards, having achieved his rank with barely over a century under his belt. Thorin had only known him briefly in Ered Luin. He had come into his own in the time Thorin had spent planning and executing his crusade to win back the Mountain. When the seat of Thorin's kingdom had moved en masse from the Blue Mountains back to Erebor, he had already been a strong voice on the elected Council. And in the intervening years, he'd parlayed that into his current position as the head of the Council.

“High Councilor. I apologize for cutting our evening meeting today. Thank you for attending to me.”

“Of course, Sire.” Thorin didn’t offer him a seat and he appeared as comfortable standing in the King’s personal training ring as he would have been had they met in their normal receiving rooms over wine and a late pipe. “I hear that you had a challenging afternoon.”

Thorin grinned wryly. “Word travels fast.” They weren’t friends - their politics were too often at odds to allow for that – but he respected the other dwarf and believed the feeling mutual.

“That it does. I shall take up as little time as I can then. I believe there has been an agreement regarding the troops for the northern forest.”

Thorin emptied his cup in a last long draft then raised an eyebrow. “Truly? I was sure the Council would be deadlocked on this indefinitely.”

“Your company has been very busy, as you well know, Your Majesty, and it seems that my colleagues and I are now in the minority.” Lamli’s lips twisted in a dry smile.

Thorin felt himself returning the gesture. “I have no idea what you're referring to but I'm glad to hear it.” Honestly, Thorin had had every member of the Company busy exploiting their connections: threatening, cajoling and flat out bribing the right individuals to create the perfect domino effect of a yes vote within the High Council but Thorin would never admit to such a thing aloud. Just as the High Councilor would never admit that he'd been working just as hard to maintain the stalemate that had persisted for most of the year.

Lamli spread his hands open between them. “As you say, Your Majesty.” Leaning back on his heels, he was once again all business. “I see that the Deep Fell Span has been added to the next Council agenda. I believe this item was previously approved by the Council and closed.”

Thorin rose and resettled his robes on his shoulders. “It was. I am re-introducing it.” He motioned for the Councilor to walk with him as he started for the door. “It has come to my attention that the coal stores are insufficient to meet the needs of the project in addition to the current needs of the Mountain.”

Lamli cocked his head to the side clearly thrown by the topic. He allowed Thorin to precede him through the doors then strode forward to match his pace. “The guilds agreed to earmark the coal for the project.”

“Yes, they did.” Thorin agreed. “But the guilds are not the only ones who use the coal.”

A shrewd look came to the Councilor’s eyes. “Ah. Well, perhaps we can offer a compromise that suits all parties.”

Thorin smiled. He paused as they reached the intersection of the hall that would lead to his private quarters. “I'm sure you can. I look forward to hearing the Guilds' proposal at the next meeting.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” He gave a deep bow to Thorin and stepped back towards the public spaces.

Thorin inclined his head in acknowledgment both of the bow and the tacit concession to work with the Council to come to an agreement on the fuel fee. “Thank you, High Councilor.”

The dwarf turned and disappeared quickly down the hall. Balin appeared silently in his wake.

“Balin?” Thorin tiredly asked.

Balin smiled softly and was for a moment, just one friend concerned for another. “Get some rest Thorin. Spend some time with Bilbo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Balin.” Thorin clapped him briefly on the shoulder.

“Always, your Majesty.”

Again the walk back to his chambers was blessedly empty of distractions and Thorin made it back to his rooms quickly. He once again discarded his robe and jewels as soon as he entered his private chambers.

Biblo sat wrapped in a robe looking at the fire from his armchair. Thorin's own robe was laid over the back of the armchair next to Bilbo's and a tankard of what was sure to be ale, sat on small table between them. Under Bilbo's watchful eyes, Thorin divested himself of his crown and remaining clothes. He wrapped his nude form in his robe to ward off the chill of drying sweat then dropped down into his armchair.

The ale was sharply bitter and cold. Thorin closed his eyes, willing his muscles to relax with the warmth of the fire and the bite of the ale.

From his right, there was the sound of Bilbo rising and then Thorin felt the warm weight of his bondmate leaning against his legs. Blindly, Thorin reached out a hand and tangled it in Bilbo's damp curls. The heavy weight of Bilbo's head came to rest on Thorin's knee. Together they sat quietly until the ale was gone and Thorin’s breathing had become deep and even.

In the muted light of the fire, Thorin reached out with gentle fingers to cup Bilbo's face. Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his cheek against Thorin's palm once before he pulled away. With careful hands he cradled Thorin's forearm, turning it so that he could work a kiss into the tender skin of Thorin's wrist with lips and insistent teeth.

Thorin watched silently as Bilbo re-established his own claim on Thorin. He worked at the skin with singular purpose for long minutes, pausing every now and then to check his progress. Finally, Bilbo huffed a soft satisfied breath and bestowed a final kiss on the reddened skin.

Thorin pulled his wrist back from Bilbo's lax grasp and carefully inspected Bilbo's mark. It was perfect. “Stand for me?” Thorin asked roughly at length.

Bilbo pulled away and stood, dropping his robe to the floor to leave himself bare in the flickering light.

Thorin rose and stirred the fire, adding another log to brighten the newly awoken blaze.

Bilbo's skin appeared a warm pink in the light. Thorin stared at the bare expanse of his back where smooth skin was rounded by Hobbitish curves to his waist and ass and thighs. Thorin mapped each hill and valley with his hands, using the sight and feel of Bilbo's healthy body to appease his instincts. Bilbo leaned into his every touch with pleased sighs and encouraging hums.

Kneeling, Thorin allowed his hands to wrap around to the front of Bilbo's calves and sweep upward carding through thick hair and over smooth thighs, gently petting Bilbo’s stones and cock, then onward still until he was cradling Bilbo's hips from behind and leaning his forehead into the small of Bilbo's back. There he breathed for a long moment and took in the intimate scent that was his Consort.

Bilbo spoke for the first time since he'd returned. “I am well, Thorin.”

Thorin nodded, rubbing his bearded chin against the swell of Bilbo's ass before rising again to his feet. He stepped to Bilbo's front, hands moving again to map Bilbo's rounded stomach and the planes of his chest. Thorin brought his hands together to sweep gently up Bilbo's throat and cup his jaw. For a moment he teased a thumb at Bilbo's lower lip but moved on before Bilbo's tongue could dart out and catch him. He let his hands trail back down and over Bilbo's shoulders, stopping finally to grip his upper arms tightly.

Bilbo bore no mark that he had not had that morning. No bruise or scratch or pinking of skin to indicate that any but Thorin had touched him. Thorin breathed out a low growl of confused relief and possession and love.

Bilbo brought his hands up to Thorin's cheeks and placed a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“I am well.” Bilbo placed a kiss on the opposite corner of Thorin's mouth.

“I cannot allow you to be hurt, _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin's voice was raw with worry and longing.

Bilbo hummed lowly and placed a light kiss on bridge of Thorin’s nose. “I know but I won’t ignore my duties as your Consort.” He glanced sharply at Thorin.

A small part of Thorin continued to demand that he sequester his mate, place walls and doors and guards between every other being and his heart but he had felt that way since he'd claimed his Consort. And would feel that way until the day they passed on to Mahal's halls.

“I would not ask that of you.” Thorin smiled sadly. Bilbo weighed him for a moment and then lifted his chin in a silent demand for a kiss.

Thorin gladly gave it. He maneuvered Bilbo to their bed with leading kisses and possessive hands, laying him out to the sound of Bilbo’s sweet endearments. Thorin worked him open with slick, well-practiced movements, and not the smallest bit of impatience for the process. As soon as Bilbo could be deemed ready, Thorin wrapped his hands around the curve of Bilbo's hips and lifted him just enough to slide in easily.

Bracing himself on the bed with his hands by Bilbo's shoulders, he pulled almost free then slid back in with a heady moan. Bilbo hooked his ankles around Thorin's hip and thigh and pulled hard. Thorin obliged him with short hard thrusts that kept them locked close together but still drove their pleasure forward. Bilbo was still not satisfied though. He turned his shoulder to sneak his hand around Thorin's braced hand and pushed it out from under Thorin. With a grunt, Thorin went down to his forearms, bringing him face to face with Bilbo. He growled wordlessly and grabbed Bilbo's chin with one hand to still him for a sharp kiss. He pushed his other arm under Bilbo's shoulder and grabbed his hair at the nape of his neck. Bilbo pulled his arms in to curl against Thorin's chest, hands scratching lightly at his hair and leaving no room between them.

Thorin curled his arms upward just enough to gain the leverage needed to drive Bilbo down into his demanding thrusts while blanketing his body completely. Bilbo held just as tightly to him, biting and sucking at Thorin's neck and jaw. Even this close, it was still not enough to send them over the edge and Bilbo's moans were taking on a desperate, unfulfilled edge.

With a heavy snarl, Thorin tipped himself back and away from Bilbo. His Consort whined in confusion, trying to hold on but Thorin gripped his thighs and forced them down from his hips. He pulled out completely and growled out a command, “On your stomach.” Bilbo wasted no time in complying. He made quick work of repositioning himself on his hands and knees and then Thorin was pushing back in.

Thorin allowed all his weight to fall on Bilbo, forcing his mate into the mattress below them as his legs and arms gave out. With a feral growl, Thorin placed his teeth against Bilbo's neck. Carefully, he increased the pressure of his jaw as he fucked into Bilbo with short hard thrusts. Bilbo's keening cry increased in volume as Thorin's teeth exerted more and more pressure on his skin. Holding his bite at just the moment before it would break skin, Thorin growled deep and vicious and Bilbo's body seized with the power of his breaking pleasure. Thorin fucked him through it and it was only as his cries became overwrought and sensitive that Thorin allowed himself finally to let go. He pushed into Bilbo a final time and held himself rigidly flush against his mate as his own release took him.

Slowly, Thorin released Bilbo's flesh from his jaw. The skin was flushed red but there was no blood. Contented, he brushed his nose across Bilbo's skin for a moment before he allowed himself to half collapse over to Bilbo’s side. Bilbo turned toward him and pushed him the rest of the way over onto his back before draping himself over half of Thorin's body. Sighing he laid his head on Thorin's chest above his still thundering heart. Bilbo rubbed his cheek slowly back and forth mimicking Thorin's actions from a moment before. Thorin savored the feeling of friction and warm skin.

Deep within, their bond pulled at them, a steady anchor. Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder holding him close. “You must protect yourself. For in doing so it is my body and my mind and my heart that you truly guard.”

"Always," Bilbo promised. He placed a chaste kiss at the center of Thorin's chest and settled in for a nap. Thorin closed his eyes and allowed the the weight of Bilbo pressed against him, the scent of their recent coupling, and the sound of Bilbo's deep breaths to sooth away the last of his disquiet.

"How did your speech go?" Bilbo mumbled evidently not quite ready to let go. "It would be a shame if all that practice was for naught."

Thorin snorted softly. Bilbo had been very diligent (and inventive) in his efforts to get Thorin to practice his speech rather than going with the tried and true method of showing up and hoping for the best. "No one fell asleep, if that is what you're asking," he replied gruffly.

Bilbo grumbled and pinched him in the side for his smart mouth. In response, Thorin hugged Bilbo closer, trapping Bilbo's hand between them and protecting his own ribs. "Peace. It went well, love. Thank you."

Bilbo relaxed against him once more in seeming satisfaction.

"How was Court?" Thorin asked in return.

Thorin felt Bilbo shift his shoulders in an almost shrug. "Nothing of great importance. A few disputes and the usual petitions. I've sent Balin the list with the ones I think we should follow up on."

The deep sound of Thorin's hum reverberated in his chest. "Do you know anything about a pig and a priest?" he asked, off hand.

Bilbo lifted his head in surprise and squinted at Thorin who slit his eyes open and blinked at him in response. "A who and a what?" Bilbo asked perplexed.

Thorin just tugged him back down and resolutely closed his eyes again. "Just something Kili brought up in Court today. He told me to ask, Fili." 

Bilbo snorted, the puff of air tickling across Thorin's skin. "Who knows with those two. Which reminds me, we need to get up. I invited Kili to dinner."

"No we don't. Fili has returned." Thorin groped beneath his hip and tugged the rucked edge of a fur throw free. He flipped the cover over the both of them and tucked Bilbo closer to ensure that they were both warm.

"Has he?" Bilbo asked with a yawn. "Well then I don't suppose we'll be seeing them for dinner, then will we?"

"No, I would think not. And Balin has agreed to move the morning session to after lunch."

Bilbo hummed in vague agreement, already half asleep now that their evening plans had been cancelled.

Thorin settled him closer and breathed deeply. Later there would be a trip to the bath and a warm meal followed by more sex, if Thorin had anything to say about it. But for now, he allowed himself to drift into sleep with his Consort, content deep within his Mountain.


End file.
